The Plural of a ProCon List
by sedlakova
Summary: What is the plural of a Pro-Con List? And how many does one girl need anyway? Logan's proposal is a bit different than in the show, and Rory gets some unexpected news. This is the fallout.
1. Chapter 1

**The Plural of Pro-Con List?**

A/N: It's set late in season 6. Logan has proposed, although more privately than on the show, and allowed her some time to make her pro-con list. This story starts 3 days after his proposal.

**PART ONE**

_Dear Ms Gilmore,_

_We regret to inform you that you were not one of the 4 Reston Fellowship receivers for the summer of 2007. The number of incredible applicants was overwhelming this year._

_However, we at the Times do recognize quality when we see it, and your submission was top-notch. In addition you expressed in your essay a strong desire for overseas work. Not many applicants want to venture too far abroad. As you are aware, the New York Times has a global edition of our newspaper, the International Herald Tribune, which focuses more on international issues. We have offices around the world, and are looking for fresh talent, and young people who are willing to step out of their comfort zone._

_It is for this reason that we are offering you a 6-month internship at the International Herald Tribune's Prague bureau. It is not a paying job, although the Tribune does cover living expenses._

_If you are interested, and we very much hope that you are, please contact my assistant at the following contact information._

_Thank you again for your application, and we hope to see you in our offices soon._

_Sincerely,_

_Simon Bracewell_

_Vice-President, International Division, New York Times_

My hand begins to shake and the letter flutters to the floor of my and Paris' apartment. My trembling hands covered my mouth, trying to hold the shock inside. Fate certainly was a mischievous woman. Just that morning, I had scheduled a phone interview with the editor-in-chief of the San Francisco Chronicle for the following day, and was planning to tell Logan over a home-cooked lunch that the "pro" side of my list had won out. Hands down. That I want to marry him. And now this.

So in true Gilmore fashion, I run. Well, drive. I was halfway to Stars Hollow when I had to pull over to the side of the road, breathe, and let my thoughts have free reign. Prague! I had loved Prague the summer I'd backpacked around Europe with my mom. It was my favorite of all the cities that we'd visited. I'd adored the hundreds of spires that stretched as far as my eyes could see from the castle. I'd loved how when we ventured off the beaten path, the tiny streets revealed what the city must have looked in the time of Rudolf II. I'd been fascinated by the way the rain made the Old Town look like it hadn't changed in 500 years. And I'd never ever wanted to leave Charles Bridge at sunset, although Lorelai did eventually manage to pull me towards yet another cute, old, dilapidated café, after allowing me enough time to take several pictures as the sky changed from day to night.

I pull my notebook out of my messenger bag, steady it against the steering wheel, then fish around in the bag for a chewed-up pen. I take a deep breath, underline the heading with studious fastidiousness, and start scribbling notes.

_**Prague PROS**_

_World-renowned Int'l Herald Tribune (read all over world!)_

_Foot in door for NY Times eventually?_

_Chance to see if I'm really cut out to be an int'l correspondent?_

_Paid living expenses_

_Fabulous on résumé_

_Not a Huntzberger paper!_

_My favorite European city, by far _

_**Prague CONS**_

_Leaving Logan, mom for six months!_

_Long-distance engagement (is that a pro?)_

_No safety nets (salary, full-time job, family)_

_I don't speak Czech_

Looks like my decision is made for me. Sighing, I put my pen back in my bag, resist the overwhelming urge to run to my mom, and drive back to New Haven.

PART TWO

I fight with the zillion locks on the apartment door, juggling my bag plus 2 bags of takeout. Looking down, I see Logan's shoes in the entrance, so I know he's already home. "I know, I know! I promised you a home-cooked lunch, but something really huge came up, and I didn't manage! I'm sorry, I'll make it up to you tonight!" I ramble in one long breath.

Silence. I'd expected the usual Gilmore (and now Logan!) response, "Dirty!" but there was nothing.

"Logan?"

Silence.

"Marco?"

"Who's Marco, Ace?" he jokes, although I could hear that his voice is strained.

Taking in his appearance, I'm surprised to find his eyes wide, and his hair looking like he'd run his hands through it a fair few times. That was something he only did when he was nervous or upset.

"Baby, what's wrong? Logan?" I drop the bags and walk over to him, putting my hand on his cheek the way he loved.

He still won't speak. Instead, he holds up his hand, clutched tightly around a piece of paper.

"Oh, no, Logan! Come here!" Realization dawns on me. How could I have let him find out like that? Why didn't I pick up the letter after it fell? I pull him into a tight hug, holding him for a long time. Then I take his hand and lead him to the lumpy sofa, sitting us both down.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asks hoarsely.

"I just got it this morning, Logan, after you'd left. I needed a little time to digest it first."

"And?" he sounds so dejected, I don't have the right words. I don't have any words. So I go over to my bag, pull out the list, and hand it to him.

He takes it silently, but ends up reading parts out loud. "You're right, it is a fabulous chance." "World-renowned, absolutely." "There are a lot more pros than cons on this list, Rory." "Long distance engagement? Does this mean you're saying yes? Does this mean that you're leaving? Does this.."

I cut him off by shoving another piece of paper into his hand.

_**Marrying Logan PROS**_

_I love him with all my heart._

_I want to grow old with him._

_I want my children to be his children._

_I want to wake up to him every morning for the rest of my life._

_He loves me unconditionally._

_The fights between Colin and Finn over who gets to be best man will be entertaining._

_**Marrying Logan CONS**_

_I want to succeed based on what I do, not my name._

_His family hates me. Except Honor ;)_

_California? Is there snow there?_

He looks up at me, his warm eyes glistening with tears, his lip trembling. "I need you to say it, Ace."

"Yes, I want to marry you. Of course I do." He picks me up and spins in a circle, as we both smile at my choice of words. "But we have a lot to discuss."

I can see in his face that he knows it's not as simple as it sounds. I keep my arms wrapped around his waist, to steady myself. Touching him keeps me grounded. Okay, well sometimes, touching him sends me into the stratosphere, but this is different. I take a deep breath, and wonder idly how many deep breaths have I taken today.

"Logan, I want to do both. And I think that I can. But I need you on my side. For all of it."

"What do you mean?"

"I want this internship in Prague, I really do. But before I got this letter, I had called the Chronicle and set up a phone interview for tomorrow. Thanks for putting in a good word, by the way. They were really nice."

He opens his mouth, but I gently place my index finger on his lips. I need to get all of this out.

"I also really really want the rest of my life with you. Here's what I've come up with. Let me finish, then you can give your rebuttal. Okay, so we are engaged, but we get married next summer. I go to Prague for 6 months, and it's your turn to support me as I did for you while you were in London. I need to take advantage of this opportunity, and you know it. Without your family jet, it might be harder to arrange visits, but you and me, we can do anything we put our minds to. You get settled in your new job, and in that amazing house you told me about. You don't forget to water the avocado tree. I come back, hopefully to a job in San Francisco, and to a home with a loving fiancé. I marry you, become Rory Huntzberger, and we live happily ever after. Well, what do you say?"

I can see that he's been struggling to keep quiet this whole time, but nothing prepares me for the giggling. **The** Logan Huntzberger is giggling uncontrollably. Tears are streaming down his face, literally.

However, that's not a valid opinion. I bite my lip, wondering what he'll say. "Two minutes for your rebuttal, Huntzberger."

"Ace, you are one in a million, you know that? You've planned out the entire next year for both of us, and I don't have a single point to refute. You want to follow your dreams, marry me, and have my children. How on earth could I not want any of that?" He kisses me soundly, to the point where I forget my name. Then he whispers, "Rory Huntzberger" and I can feel him grinning like a madman into my neck. Just as I tilt my head for another kiss, he pulls away.

"But of all your points, you forgot something pretty important, Ror."

"My mom, your parents? They'll just have to deal."

"More important that them. C'mon Ace, use that giant brain of yours. And your mother's penchant for knowing where presents are hidden." His smile is ridiculously broad at this point, his dimples mocking me, and my mouth drops, forming a perfect 'O'. I can't believe I forgot about my ring! With all the analyzing and planning, it completely slipped my mind. When he proposed, he did it without a ring. Just holding me as we left our favourite greasy spoon.

I look around the small apartment, skipping over the smelly crafts corner. He wouldn't leave it in the living room where Paris and/or Doyle could find it. I run to the doorway to our room, and cast my eyes everywhere. My gaze alights on my favourite picture of us, our landing after we jumped at the LDB event, framed on my dresser. I look sideways at him, catch his eye, and go directly to the picture. There's a small blue box behind it. Ha! I knew it! I pick it up, and turn again to the doorway to catch his reaction. But he's not there. He's moved to one knee on my so-needs-to-be-vacuumed carpet, and holds out his hand for the box. He takes out the ring. then holds out his hand for mine.

As he slips the ring on my finger, we both smile and whisper, "You jump, I jump, Jack."


	2. Chapter 2

_M__orning of flight to Prague_

"C'mon, Rory, just one more!" my mom begs, pulling me towards the Starbucks stand at the airport. This time, though, I refuse to budge.

"But mom, I still have to go through security and passport control. That's gonna take a while. I can't miss this flight, someone from the Tribune is meeting me at Ruzyne, and…"

Exasperated, she cuts me off. "Rory, your flight doesn't leave for another 2 ½ hours! And you lied! You told me it left at 10.30, and it really leaves at 1! You made me get out of bed and drive to Hartford way earlier than necessary. And I especially needed my beauty sleep, since I'm gonna walk out of this airport with you on the way to another country, and my mascara will have run, and I'll look like the missing member of Kiss! If I was the fi-antsy, I bet you would've told me the correct time!"

"Mom, take a breath. You knew all this before now. Why the drama?"

"Drama is my occupation, didn't you see my t-shirt? It's just, what am I gonna do with you across an ocean? I won't be able to just pick up the phone and call you for fashion advice, dream analysis, and everything else that I need you for, kid." The tears are starting to pool in her eyes, and it only makes this so much harder for me. I'm almost glad that Logan's already in San Francisco, because I'd never get on the plane if he were here. Lorelai's bad enough.

"It's just, I'm so so proud of you, baby. These are tears of pride, mother's pride, I promise."

"I know, mom. I'm trying not to cry too. But I showed you how to use Skype on the computer. I even bought you a Skype-phone. We can call whenever, for free, just please keep in mind the time difference. We'll be ok, it's only for 6 months, plus… I'll be home for Christmas…" I sang the last bit, hoping to make her smile, if only a little. And it worked. Magic.

I hug her one last time, and she nearly crushes my lungs. I gather my small carry-on suitcase and my backpack, stuffed with books and crossword puzzles, and my iPod, not to mention what other things Lorelai thinks I need in order to survive a 9 hour plane ride. I take a deep breath to reinflate my lungs, whisper "I love you" to my mom, and walk off into the unknown. All by myself.

* * *

After a typical flight, with bad food and even worse coffee, which I tried in vain to improve by adding my vanilla ice cream to it, I breathe again, happy to get off the damn plane but nervous beyond belief at what lay in store. Getting my bags is easy (must remember to thank mom for putting the silly sparkles and ribbons on my suitcases; they are not hard to find on the carousel!), I collect my first journalistic stamp in my passport, and step out into the arrivals hall. I know someone's meeting me, but I have no idea what he or she looks like. I scan the sparse crowd, and see my name held up on a sign. And "up" may be a slight exaggeration. As I make my way over, I find a tiny girl in glasses and funky clothes, smaller than Lane, but with a big smile and an even bigger piece of paper that says "Miss Gilmore" in bright pink letters.

I approach her, smile, and introduce myself. "Hi, I'm Rory Gilmore."

"Miss Gilmore, I'm Terezka, I'm the assistant editor's assistant. Does that make sense? I'm sorry, I'm babbling. When I heard that we'd have another girl in the team, I offered to meet you at the airport, I'm sure this can be overwhelming, right?"

"Right. And it's Rory. Just Rory."

"Well, I'm Terezka Hantuchova, but since most of our foreign staff have problems with Czech names, I just go by my first. We all do at the Tribune, so it's a bit more laidback. I'll just shut up now, I'm sure you're exhausted. The car is this way."

We make idle chit chat in the car, and I start to think I've found Lane's missing twin. Terezka's in a jazz quintet, she plays trumpet, and she drives like a maniac. She blithely informs me that she's borrowed her boss' car so we don't have to carry all the luggage onto the bus, then subway, then tram. When we get to what I assume is my building, she's bouncing a little on the balls of her feet. She tells me that she lives down the block, that we live in Vinohrady, which is dead close to the city center, and even closer to the Tribune's offices. And that it used to be part of the royal vineyards, which is where it got the name. And that all the trams pass by just a block away, and that it's a great neighbourhood. A bit of a brain dump, I start to wish I had my notepad with me. Did I really do all this to poor Anna sophomore year?

She shows me all the keys I need: one for the main door downstairs (old, carved, and for some reason painted green); one for the back door, which leads to the garbage and recyclables; and one for the apartment itself. The elevator is extremely small and rickety, and I think I'll be taking the stairs when I'm not carrying tons of suitcases, despite Gilmore Rule #3.

"Ta-da! Here's your flat! I hope you like it! Okay, your company cell phone is on the coffee table, my phone number is already programmed into it. I'll leave you to unpack, get settled, nap. You don't have a landline, just the cell, but the DSL is installed in this building, so you can just plug in your laptop and have internet access. But I am taking you out for dinner this evening, with a couple other colleagues. So that you'll have more than one face you know tomorrow at the office. Okay?"

I just stare at her, stunned. She seems to have covered everything, and how on earth did she know I wanted some time on my own? Wow, she's good. Apparently, not too good as she's misread the surprised look on my face.

"Oh, God, I'm so pushy, I'm sorry! You don't have to come out with us, it was just an idea, and you probably have jet lag…"

"Terezka, really, it's great. Really, a great idea."

"Okay, so just call that number, and we'll come over and get you."

"You mean to tell me, you'll be waiting by the phone, with other people who will all drop what they are doing to go out with me?"

"Well, technically, we'll be at the pub round the corner in an hour, and from there, we're on your schedule, Rory. Like I said, we're pretty laidback."

With that, she smiles and waves gaily, and walks out the door.

**********

I take my first real look around the apartment, and I really like it. It's a cozy, one bedroom, with a small living room and kitchen nook. There's already a cool baby blue retro coffee machine there, the twin of Logan's espresso maker, with a note attached.

_Ace,_

_I know you won't get far as a journalist without good coffee. Knock em dead!_

_Love, L_

I grab the cell from the table, and punch in his number, too excited to worry about getting the laptop up and running.

"I can't believe you did that!!!"

"I take it you've landed and gotten to the apartment, Ace?"

"I had no idea Domenico had such a handsome twin brother! His name is Francesco! How on earth did you manage this?"

"I spoke with the assistant editor's assistant, got the address, and had it delivered. A Tribune intern signed for it. Not rocket science, Ror. Plus, I got Domenico's twin since then you wouldn't have to worry about figuring out how he works. Take a look in your cabinets."

I open the cabinet directly above Francesco, and it's completely stocked with my favorite Italian espresso pads, Lavazza and Illy.

"Huntzberger, have I mentioned today how much I love you?"

"Not that I recall."

"Well, I do. For this and so many other reasons."

"Does one of those reasons have anything to do with a pretty piece of jewelry you're wearing?"

I smile, rubbing my thumb over the back of my ring finger. It's become a nervous habit, almost like I'm checking that it's still there, that it's real. "Could be."

"So, what's your second impression of Prague, Ror?"

"The girl who picked me up at the airport seems really nice, we're going out later for dinner with a couple other colleagues. So I'll know people tomorrow. And the apartment is cute, comfy, furnished by Ikea, but bright. I think I can actually do this, Logan."

"I know you can actually do this, Ace."

"Yes, I am oh-so-fabulous! Oh crap, I haven't called my mom yet!"

"Distracted by Francesco's masculine wiles?"

"Precisely. I'll call you later. Love you."

**********

After connecting my internet phone, I call my mom, hoping to unpack my stuff while talking to her. Instead, she's dealing with some kitchen emergency, according to Michel. I simply leave the message that I've arrived safely, and plan to call her after dinner. Opening the suitcase, I immediately hang my clothes in the extremely small standing closet, to let gravity try to get the wrinkles out. I start placing my picture frames on the various surfaces. My favorite one is a Colin masterpiece; he documented my jump with Logan at my first LDB event, and this one is right after we landed with clutched hands, eyes sparkling. I think that was the moment that I started to fall for Logan. I blink the oncoming tears away; I can do this.

Determined, I line up all my shoes in the small entrance, and catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. This is what I've always wanted: to work overseas, to learn other cultures. But all I can think about is how much I miss Logan. Sometimes I think I met my soul mate too soon. As though I was supposed to meet him in a few years, after I'd started my career and started to make a name for myself.

I sit down on the couch and take in the rest of the apartment. I adore the dining nook; it's connected to the living room, but in a small alcove that sticks out of the building, surrounded by windows. Through the windows, I can see a church, and a lot of buildings that are in various stages of renovation. Some are brown and crumbling, but with Baroque statues and architecture. I feel a bit like Juliet when I open the window, and stick my head out. Two statues of half-naked men are holding up my alcove! I have to ask Terezka to take a picture of me here!

I've never lived on my own before, really, unless you count the few months in Logan's apartment in New Haven. But it was never my apartment. It was always his. Technically, this is my first apartment. And my first time truly on my own. I feel almost as bad as I did when mom and I weren't talking a couple years ago. Like I'm missing a part of me. But as I sit here, I start to realize that I really needed to do something by myself. Without always trying to get my mom's approval, or Logan's family's approval. Just to prove to myself, and only to myself, that I can do this. That I belong in the world of journalism. What I will never admit out loud to anyone ever is that I am still very much affected by Mitchum Huntzberger's dismissal of my abilities. That I constantly question myself. Still. And the first moment that I didn't feel that way was when I received the Tribune's offer.


End file.
